


Scotch Is For Intimate Company

by TheseusInTheMaze



Series: Scotch and Company [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Crush, Cunnilingus, F/M, Love Confession, Masturbation, Pining, Vaginal Fingering, awkward conversation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 21:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14923239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Uhura and Chekov share a drink, and Chekov has a realization.





	Scotch Is For Intimate Company

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fringewrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fringewrites/gifts).



> Hope you enjoy, Fashnik. <3

Chekov and Uhura sat in an empty rec room, and they traded a bottle of scotch back and forth with each other.

It wasn’t very good scotch - Chekov kept the good scotch in his locker, and Bones had “acquired it” (the jerk), so it was… only good scotch.

“I’m still surprised that you don’t drink vodka,” said Uhura, and she was swaying, just a little bit. 

“I like vodka,” said Chekov, “but there is a time and a place for it.”

“And what’s the right time for vodka?”

Chekov looked at her - the elegant curve of her profile, the length of her neck, the delicate strength of her hands as she cradled the bottle of scotch. 

“With more company,” he said, because… what else was he going to say?

His heart was in his ears, his face was turning red… at least it was dim, and most of the light was coming from the hallway, and a bit from the star field out the window.

It wasn’t often they had quiet moments on the Enterprise.

It was nice to savor it.

“We should find more company,” said Uhura. “Or we’d need it, if we had vodka.”

She smiled at him, a smile that went all the way to her eyes, and his heart leapt into his throat.

Oh _god_. 

She was… she was so beautiful, and he knew that, empirically, because she was Uhura, and he knew that she was beautiful the same way that he knew the average heat of a star, or how many things had been invented in Russia. 

But it was one thing to _know_ it, and it was another thing to… experience it.

Was he experiencing it?

What did experiencing beauty even mean?

Oh god.

He was staring.

He flushed, and he stared down at his hands. 

And then the bottle of scotch was being held in front of Chekov, label side up.

“Oh,” he said. “Thank you.”

“It’s nice, just talking with you,” she said, and she looked… well, a little tipsy, but otherwise pretty normal. “I sometimes feel like we all get lost in the crush.”

“I’ll be sure to bring vodka along next time,” Chekov said, his tone earnest. 

“I don’t know,” said Uhura, and she looked at him over the rim of her glass as she took a long sip of her scotch. “I’m kind of liking the… intimate nature of this company.”

It hadn’t started out quite so… intimate.

It had been Kirk, Spock, Bones, Scotty… but everyone else had gradually gone to bed, or gone to do… something.

And Uhura didn’t know Russian well enough to pass as a native speaker, but she was still good at picking it up - she had such an ear for languages. 

Obviously. 

And then they’d been talking in Russian - not anything big or important, but it was such a wonder, to hear his mother tongue again. 

And he was staring at the scotch

“Pavel?”

Her voice was gentle.

“Sorry,” said Chekov, and he laughed, and took a bigger swig of it than he should have. “Lost in my thoughts.”

“Right,” said Uhura. “It’s getting late.”

“It is,” said Chekov. “But it’s nice. Not… not having all the lights and the people and the bustle and the noise.”

“I do miss the quiet sometimes,” Uhura said. “You’d think that out in the emptiness of space, it would be much quieter, wouldn’t you?”

“With as many people around as we’ve got, I’d hardly call it the emptiness of space,” said Chekov.

Uhura laughed, and it was… it wasn’t a pretty looking laugh.

Her whole face wrinkled up, and she curled forward, putting down her glass and holding on to her stomach. 

It was an ugly laugh, too - almost a snort, with a trace of a hiccupy gasp.

It made her lovelier. 

He wanted to kiss her.

He wanted to hold her, he wanted to make her laugh like that again, preferably longer. 

“I’m sorry,” Uhura wheezed, and she was covering her mouth with both hands, to keep from making any more indignant noises. “That wasn’t even that funny….”

“I like to think I’m funny,” said Chekov, and he made a big show of taking another swig of his scotch.

“You are funny, Pasha,” said Uhura, “but I think… I think I’m a bit drunk.”

He flushed, and she seemed to have caught it, because… oh, she looked nervous.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have… I mean, that was too… familiar, I shouldn’t have….” 

“No, no,” he said, and he reached out for her, taking her hand in his own, squeezing it. “No, we’ve been through enough for you to… to talk to me like that. In private.”

“Oh, obviously,” said Uhura, and she squeezed his hand.

He could feel her pulse in her fingers, against the pulse of his own finger, and he was… he was blushing harder.

He wanted her to kiss him. 

He wanted… he wanted her, so badly, he wanted to taste her lips, he wanted to hold her face in his hands…. 

“I should get to bed,” said Uhura, and she smiled at him. 

She was still holding his hand.

“I… I should too.”

He was still holding her hand. 

She let go of him, gently, and it was almost with regret, as the very tips of her fingers brushed against the very tips of hers. 

“I’ll see you on the bridge,” she said, and they both stood up.

Chekov was acutely aware of his own body - the blood beating in his veins, the thunder of his heart, the weight of his bones, the heft of his muscles.

His cock was hard in his uniform. 

Oh god.

Hopefully it wasn’t noticeable.

She hugged him, and his hard on was pressed against her leg, and her breasts were soft against his chest, and... oh god.

“Good night, Pasha,” she said, right in his ear, and then she was walking off. 

Chekov just… stood there for almost a full minute, his mouth dry and his head spinning. 

Oh god.

He was… oh god.

He needed a cold shower, and to not think of Uhura like that, because… it was _Uhura_.

Not that Uhura wasn’t a very beautiful woman - he was, quite possibly, one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.

Certainly one of the most beautiful women on the Enterprise.

But she was… she wasn’t just a pair of legs, or gorgeous hair, or beautiful eyes, or a tight ass….

Chekov’s cock throbbed up at him.

He groaned, and he covered his face with both hands.

Okay.

He was going to go take a cold shower, and then he was going to go to sleep.

That would calm him down, wouldn’t it?

* * * 

He didn’t take a cold shower.

He stumbled into his quarters, divested himself of his uniform, until he was just standing there in his underwear, his cock still hard, trapped up against his belly.

And then he was… he was getting on the bed, and he ras rolling onto his back, sliding his hand into his boxers.

… just this once wouldn’t hurt, would it?

He covered his mouth with his other hand, and he wrapped his fingers around his cock, rolling his hips forward, fucking into the tunnel of his fist.

God, Uhura… what if he’d kissed her?

What would it be like, to press closer to her?

What would her skin feel like, against his own?

… he remembered her face, when she was laughing, and he’d read somewhere, that people’s faces when they came were so similar to how they looked when they laughed, and he fucked his fist a little harder.

He pressed his hand against his lips, and he imagined her mouth against his - her lips would be sweet, and probably taste faintly like the cosmetics she used. 

God, she would be so _warm_ against him too, and they were almost the same height - he could just press up into her, and she’d have her mouth level with his, and they’d… they’d kiss each other, and he could… oh, fuck, she’d feel so warm inside, warm against him, she’d smell so good - she bought her own shampoo and soap, she didn’t like the ship’s.

He’d caught the scent of it before, a little bit of it, when she leaned over him on his console.

And her face, god, he kept going back to her face, when she was laughing, it had just… it had… it….

He came across his belly.

He came across his belly in a spray of semen, thick and sticky, and he was shivering, panting open mouthed into his hand.

The pleasure seemed to pulse through him, the pressure at the base of his spine breaking to spread throughout his whole body, and it was sweet and cold and... _perfect_. 

Oh.

Wow.

That was… that was more of an orgasm than he was used to getting from a quick jerk off session.

But… oh.

Oh, that had been… oh wow. 

Intense.

An image rose up in his mind - Uhura, looking over her shoulder at him, smiling, her eyes bright. 

And his cock tried to twitch.

Oh god.

He covered his face - and then he made a disgusted noise, because there was cum on his fingers.

Ew.

Now he _definitely_ needed a shower.

* * *

Chekov stood under the water as it drummed down on his skull, and he tilted his head back, so that the water could run down his face.

That was nice.

His head felt clearer.

He would be fine.

He just had to not shoot longing glances at Uhura during the day, and he’d be fine.

It was totally normal to occasionally masturbate to your friends, right?

Or your coworkers.

So it was normal.

Totally normal.

Absolutely completely normal.

* * *

Chekov was on the bridge, seated at his station, and he was working.

And there was a hand on his shoulder, and soft hair tickling his cheek.

“Good morning, Pasha,” said Uhura, right in his ear, and he flashed back to cumming across his belly, and the look on her face as she laughed, and he blushed so hard that his heart beat in his ears.

“G-g-good morning, Uhura,” Chekov said, and oh god, those pants were tight, but he was pressing closer to the console, so at least that was hiding him.

She smiled at him, and she rubbed her temple, leaning against his chair with her hip. “I think we might have overdid it last night.”

“Oh, indeed,” said Chekov.

And then she was… squeezing his shoulder, and he could smell her shampoo, and it smelled deep, with a hint of something spicy on the edge of it.

He wanted to press his face into her neck, until they were chest to chest.

He wanted to feel the bony span of her hips.

Oh _god_.

He didn’t have this.

It was all going to end in disaster.

But at least, right now, he could focus on other things.

He was the helmsman of the ship.

He could do this.

* * *

He lasted roughly a week, ship time, before she confronted him.

He had been avoiding her, because… well, every time he saw her, he got an erection.

He got an erection, and his heart leaped into his throat, and his stomach dropped down, and it was all in all just… a mess. 

He just needed to get over this dumb crush, and go on with his life.

He was masturbating every night, like a fiend - he was going through more lube than an old fashioned car, and he was already tired of it.

He would have to look up some… company, the next time he had some shore leave, and a chance to talk to someone around his age who wasn’t quite so _busy_.

But he was being terse to Uhura, and he was sorry for it, and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but he was also acutely aware of how ridiculous he was acting, how ridiculous he _felt_.

He had to wait until he was more or less himself again, and then he’d talk to her, explain the whole misunderstanding.

She’d understand. 

Uhura was good like that.

* * *

A few minutes after Chekov got off shift, there was a knock on the door of his quarters.

That was unexpected - people didn’t really visit him that often.

At least, not unexpectedly.

He was still in his work clothes, and he was tired, and in need of a good masturbation session, and maybe a hot meal.

But he didn’t want to keep anyone waiting outside of his quarters, so….

He opened the door, to find Uhura looking at him, her expression anxious.

She was holding a bottle of scotch.

“Chekov,” she said, and she was looking nervous. 

No more “Pasha” then.

Oh.

Why was his stomach dropping?

“Yes, hello,” said Chekov, “what can I do for you?”

“May I come in?”

“Oh. Um. Certainly.”

He stepped back, acutely aware of how messy his quarters were, aware of her being _In_ them, and oh wow, she was looking tired, but still as beautiful as ever.

She crossed her arms across her chest, as the doors closed behind her.

“I… I wanted to talk to you,” she said, and she licked her lips.

She didn’t seem to be wearing a lot of makeup.

“Yes?”

“I… I worry that I’ve offended you,” she said, and now she was starting to pick up speed as she spoke. “I didn’t mean to cause any offense, the other night, and then the next day, and I realized I had been overly familiar, which is not a thing I wanted you to worry about, just -”

Chekov held up a hand to stem the chatter.

“You didn’t offend me at all,” he told Uhura.

“No?”

“No, I’m not… I’m not offended.”

“Oh,” said Uhura. “Is there a reason you haven’t been talking to me?”

Welp.

Might as well come clean. 

He’d always been a horrible liar, let alone… well, to Uhura.

“I have been… having feelings lately,” he said, and he was avoiding eye contact. “I’ve… I’ve been worried that I’ve perhaps been… that my judgement has been somewhat clouded, because… because when I am looking at you, I can’t think straight, and I worry that I am being… disrespectful.”

She frowned.

“Disrespectful?”

“Uhura, you are very beautiful,” said Chekov, and he swallows thickly. 

His throat clicked.

“If… if I can call you Pasha,” she said, “I will insist - in private, at the very least - that you call me Nyota.”

“Right,” said Chekov, and he licked his lips. 

“I… I don’t think you’re being disrespectful, by… by being attracted to me,” said Nyota. “I do appreciate that you care about that, though.”

“Of course,” said Chekov. “How could I not?”

Nyota shrugged, and she looked slightly bashful, as she put down the bottle of scotch on a nearby table.

“I… I’m flattered that you’re attracted to me,” said Nyota, and Chekov bit back a sigh.

Here came the rejection.

Oh well.

Better to get it done in one go, right?

“I… I think you’re cute as well,” she said. “There is some attraction there.” 

“Oh? I mean, you don’t… you don’t have to have that. You don’t need to just… try it, I understand if you… oh.”

She was taking his face in her hands.

They were almost the same height, and they were eye to eye.

She kissed him.

Her lips were as soft as he’d imagined them, and he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands - did he put them on her hips? Her face? Her hair?

… he’d kissed people before, in the Academy, when he was growing up.

It hadn’t felt quite this… nerve wracking.

She pulled back, and she looked into his face, with her beautiful, beautiful eyes.

“I’d like to keep kissing you,” she said.

“I would be very much for that,” he said, and his voice cracked.

“Thank you, Pasha,” she said in Russian, and this time he was pressing closer to her, so that they were chest to chest, and now his arms were wrapped around her, his hands on the curve of her lower back.

She was pressing little kisses on his lips, after every slide of their tongues against each other, like the period at the end of a sentence, and he was shaking.

She smelled like her shampoo - that same deep scent, and like her soap - vanilla? And then there was her own scent, deeper, and it was… musky, familiar, and foreign at the same time.

She smelled alive, warm, and she felt… real. 

His heart was beating very face, and her breasts were very soft against his chest. 

“I… oh,” said Chekov, and then she was leading him to the bed, and she was… oh, she was sitting on the bed, and she was pulling him down with her, and she was shaking - was she nervous, too?

“Are you… are you alright?”

She licked her lips, and she nodded, looking sheepish.

“I’m… a bit worked up,” she said. “It’s been… busy.”

“Right,” he said, and he was blushing, but… well, if he was going to do this, he was going to do it. “I could help you with that. If you’d like.”

She arched one of her perfect eyebrows, and she was looking at him, her expression someplace between wicked and bashful. 

“What are you suggesting?”

“If you’d like, I could… I could give you pleasure,” said Chekov, aware that he was stumbling over his words a bit, but… fuck it. 

“I am certainly interested in pleasure,” said Nyota. 

“Can I… can I touch more of you? Please?”

She shifted her position, and she kicked her shoes off, so that she was lying with her back propped up by his pillows.

She opened her arms up to him, and he… he climbed into her embrace, kissing her.

And then she was pulling his shirt up and off of him, and he was topless, as he pushed down the neckline of her dress, and there were her breasts.

God, they were… perfect.

He kissed her sweet mouth again, and he put his hands on her, a bit nervous, and they were… they were so warm, and her skin was so soft, but her nipples were hard against the palm of his hand.

He kissed down her throat, and she hand her hands in his hair, as he took her nipple into his mouth. 

“Oh, Pasha!”

She moaned… she moaned so pretty.

He had a bit of experience with breasts, at least.

He went from nipple to nipple, sucking, kissing, even gently biting along the edge of her breast, just to see her squirm under him.

She was murmuring, quietly, and she was grinding her hips up against him.

… he wanted to sink his cock inside of her, and he wanted to watch her face as she came.

His hand went lower, over her stomach (still covered by her dress), to the hem of her skirt.

“May I…?”

“Yes,” she said. “Please. I want it, so badly.”

“I’m, uh… I’m glad,” said Chekov, and his hand slid up her inner thigh.

God, she was so soft under his palm, and she was squirming, grinding up towards him.

She was wearing a pair of official Star Fleet underwear - unisex, of course - but the crotch was slimy, and the fabric was plastered to her cleft.

He cupped her vulva in his hand, and he squeezed, gently.

He was looking at her face, and... yes, she made the same face, when she was laughing, when she was receiving pleasure. 

His thumb found her clit, and he pressed down on it, gently, and she ground her hips forward.

“Pasha!”

He smiled at her, and he was blushing.

“Like that?”

“Would you be comfortable with… with using your mouth?”

“I’d like that,” he said, his voice thick. “I’d like that a lot. Let me just….”

* * *

There was some wrangling - his legs were dangling off of the edge of the bed, and then he was kissing up her thighs, and helping her get her panties off.

She’d pushed her panties off, as he had gotten comfortable, and there was her pussy, right on view for him.

He rested on his stomach, his hands on her hips, and then he was leaning forward, giving her one long, slow lick.

She shuddered, and then her hands were in his hair, pulling him closer, and he opened his mouth, took her labia into his mouth and sucked.

Her pubic hair was wiry against his nose, and it tickled, just a bit.

He used one hand to hold her open, and then he was licking her clit, gently, then harder, when she moaned, her thighs squeezing either side of his head.

“Oh, Pasha!”

He groaned, and he dipped his tongue inside of her, to taste her.

She tasted… like herself, deep and salty and musky, and that was… that was nice.

Nice was the wrong word, but right now his brain was lost in the rush of it.

He was eating Nyota’s pussy - he was giving her cunnilingus, and her toes were curling against his back.

“Suck on it,” she said, her voice thick.

“Mmm?”

He looked up at her, and he was blushing.

“My… my clit. Please. Suck on it.”

“Right,” said Chekov, and the little puff of air from his mouth made her giggle and squirm, as she spread her legs a bit wider, and he pressed in closer, wrapping his lips around her clit.

She gasped, and then she was almost… sobbing, and he would have been worried that he was doing something wrong, except that her fingers were yanking at his hair, hard enough that it hurt.

“Fingers, please,” she gasped. “In me, please, I want… can you… your fingers, please?”

That… took some more wrangling, but eventually, he had his arm in the right position, and he was carefully sliding his middle finger inside of her.

She sobbed again, harder, and he was feeling along the inside of her, thrusting gently, in time with the flickers of his tongue, as he kept sucking on her clit.

She was humping into his face, her hips were rolling, her heels digging into him.

Her whole body was tensing, and she was… she was so close, he could feel it, he could practically _taste_ it, and now she was arching her back, arching it so hard that it was hard to keep his mouth where she wanted it, but then she was… oh god, she was cumming, she was cumming on his face, around his fingers, and when he glanced up at her face… it was beautiful in its ugliness, as it tensed up, then relaxed.

And then she was flat on the bed again, panting, her thighs still shaking.

He looked up at her, his finger still inside of her.

“Do you want me to… to keep going?”

She gave a bit of a laugh, and she tugged on his hair, to kiss him, tasting herself.

“I’m good for now,” she told him, still panting, and then she was reaching between his legs, her small, narrow hand sliding into his uniform pants, as he squeezed his cock through his own uniform underwear.

He jerked his hips forward, moaning against her mouth as she kept stroking him.

He was… he was so keyed up.

He was going to cum like a firehose, if he wasn’t careful, and way too soon. 

But her hand was so… soft, and she was wrapping around his cock, she was… oh, god.

“Nyota,” he mumbled, “please, I can’t, I’m going to….”

“Do it,” she said, and she kissed him, her fist closing around him and beginning to pump his cock.

He humped into her hand, awkward with her wrist pressed against his belly, trapped in his pants, in his underwear, but he was cumming in her hand, in his pants.

It was a bit like getting hit in the back of the head, and he was shaking, as he humped into her hand, riding it out.

She pulled back from him, and she pressed a little kiss to his mouth, then pulled her hand out of his pants, wrinkling her nose affectionately at the mess across her fingers.

“Wow,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I usually… I usually last longer than that.”

And then she was holding her sticky hand out to him, and he licked it off, without even thinking.

He took her finger into his mouth and he sucked on it, and her eyes widened, as she licked her lips.

“Um,” she said.

“Sorry,” he said, and he blushed. “I wasn’t… thinking.”

“No,” she said. “No, that was… that was a lot more appealing than I thought it would be.”

“Oh,” said Chekov. 

“But…,” said Uhura, and she looked bashful again, “If you’d like, I could… keep you company. We could open that bottle of scotch.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” said Chekov. “Scotch is well suited for intimate company.”

And then Uhura was laughing, and she was kissing him.

He kissed her back, and his heart thrummed, like the engines of the Enterprise.


End file.
